


Catching Butterflies

by stuffbyshelbyfics



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M, moths!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 19:30:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15154052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuffbyshelbyfics/pseuds/stuffbyshelbyfics
Summary: Dipper has an unusual date.





	Catching Butterflies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [irradiatedsnakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irradiatedsnakes/gifts).



Dipper dug frantically through the drifts of laundry surrounding his bed, flinging unwanted clothes behind him as he searched. Finally he withdrew his hands triumphantly, pulling on his cleanest socks and plucking his shoes from just under his bed frame as he hopped awkwardly to the door. Stumbling down the steps, he cursed quietly as a splinter from the newly-repaired railing jabbed into his hand, and plucked it from his palm just as Mabel caught up with him from her hiding place in the bathroom.

“Are you going to - you know?” she half-whispered, half-squeaked while doing a little jig of enthusiasm.

“Shh! Keep it down a little,” Dipper wheezed back, winded by his sprint from the attic bedroom. “I don’t want you guys to make a big deal about this, okay? We’re just gonna meet up and do some stargazing, and… maybe something else if he wants to.”

Mabel squealed, gripping the hemline of her skirt in excitement. “You’re blushing! You’re _blushing!_ Aww, have a fun time, bro-bro!”

Dipper padded quickly downstairs, passing through the kitchen on the way and raiding the refrigerator for food that he packed carefully in his bag. He paused to put his shoes on before striding into the TV room, where Stan, Ford and Soos were sitting on and around the old yellow couch.

“Hey there, my boy!” Ford beamed at him, “You’re just in time for Daniel Atticsward night. Ready for a 7-hour nature documentary marathon?”

“I’m only here because Ford promised to make me a pair of magic brass knuckles,” Stan grumbled.

“Sorry, Grunkle Ford, I can’t make it tonight,” Dipper began to make his way to the back door, taking a deep breath to steel himself. “I’ve got a date.”

Stan raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? Well, good luck, kid. Who’s the happy individual?”

Dipper blushed further. “We’ve only met up a few times, but he’s really nice,” he admitted breathlessly. “I have to go see him now, though. I’ll be back later!”

He dashed through the doorway amidst cries of encouragement, trotting down the old firefly-lit path from the back porch into the evening forest. The heat of the day hadn’t yet seeped from the earth, and moisture clung to Dipper’s skin as he walked briskly through the undergrowth, gathering flowers as he went. At one point he left the path and waded through bushes and ferns, and came to a grassy clearing lined with softly glowing mushrooms and thick, tangled roots. He tidied his makeshift bouquet and sat down on a stone blanketed with moss, setting down his backpack, and watched the woods around him.

As the light, already scant, started to fade, Dipper’s perception gradually began to change. The twisting roots looked like the reaching arms of some colossal monster; the dim shadows of the trees appeared as uneven terrain, fraught with difficult footfalls. A roundish lump at the other end of the clearing became a twitching, trembling mass of feathers and fur, which shook the twilight dew off of itself and trotted closer to him.

Dipper gave a relaxed sigh and smiled warmly. “Hey, dude,” he called, patting a space next to him as he slid from the rock onto the grass, “I brought some snacks for us. There’s pesto and cheese with prosciutto wrapped around it, and there’s flowers if you don’t like the food.”

The creature - his name translated to a series of unintelligible clicks and warbles, so Dipper had taken to calling him simply Mothboy - fluttered his still relatively small wings and chittered a reply, sitting on the grass beside him. He poked curiously at the container of pesto, unfurling his proboscis to taste it, and politely gave it back to Dipper, apparently not pleased by the unfamiliar flavor. The boy repacked it good-naturedly, handing his companion the bouquet of flowers and taking the cheese and meat for himself as Mothboy sipped nectar from the plants.

After a few minutes, Dipper reached into his backpack and pulled out Mabel’s scrapbook, opening it on his knee as he ate. “So this is my twin sister Mabel,” he began, speaking around his last mouthful of prosciutto, “And here’s my great uncles Stan and Ford. You met Ford last week when you got stuck behind the screen door and he had to use olive oil to get your antennae out of the mesh… Oh, that’s not a good memory. Start over, start over - ”

Mothboy sat contentedly as Dipper went through the list of his family members and friends, his fluffy wings vibrating occasionally as he tried to fight off the evening chill. The green and yellow light of fireflies flashed around the two of them, buzzing ponderously slowly above the cooling grass. He looked up, his strangely round face scanning the night sky, and turned back to his partner.

Dipper was halfway through a story about his and his sister’s seventh birthday when a soft, slightly chitinous finger was pressed to his lips. He met Mothboy’s faintly glowing gaze and followed the path of his other slim digit, pointing upwards.

“Oh… Oh, wow.”

The expanse of the Milky Way was spread far above them, scattered across the sky as if someone had spilled a basket of jewels on a velvet rug. The silence of the heavenly tableau was almost frightening, and Dipper soon felt Mothboy’s fuzzy body drawing nearer to his.

_He used the distraction as an opportunity to get closer to me,_ Dipper thought. _That’s surprisingly suave for a moth cryptid._

__

He turned to face his lepidopteran friend and noted how his red eyes shone like gems in the dim starlight; how the subtle, flowing patterns on his fur and wings appeared to almost disappear in the dark. There was a mutual tension in the otherwise calm air, and the two young partners interlocked their fingers, palm to bear-like palm. Dipper slowly leaned forward and kissed the patch of slightly bristly feathers above Mothboy’s proboscis, and sighed happily as it unfurled and gently tapped up and down his neck. 

__

The few moments these small, sweet kisses took seemed to stretch and flow into perpetuity. At last they parted, Mothboy’s wings trembling in excitement and Dipper’s face flushed red. 

__

“It’s getting kind of late… Do you - do you want to meet up again tomorrow?” he stammered breathlessly. “We could have ice cream back at the Mystery Shack if you want.” 

__

Mothboy nodded vigorously, his enthusiasm perhaps due to the fact that he didn’t know what ice cream was. As long as Dipper kept bringing flowers, it was alright with him. He hugged his friend snugly, engulfing the human in his warm mix of feathers and fur. Dipper, tucked neatly into the tight embrace, felt soft, tiny wings brush against his cheeks and closed eyelids, evidence of the small creatures that made up the vaguely humanoid moth. He hugged Mothboy back and finally detached himself, collecting his things, and promised he’d come back tomorrow. He walked back through the dark woods to a serenade of loving chittering, and looked back once to see Mothboy, flapping his wings furiously and hovering a few feet above the trees, and waving. He waved back, and went home with a smile. 

__


End file.
